Chapter 620
Ten minutes later, the thick steam of the master suite bathroom wrapped around us. I knelt on the wet tiles, gently washing the freezing mud from his legs with a warm cloth.
My breath hitched. Beneath the dirt, his knees were covered in deep purple bruises and bleeding scrapes from his fall at the riverbank, crisscrossing with the hideous, melted scars of the silver poison. A tear slipped down my cheek and splashed onto his ruined skin.
Dallas panicked. He reached down, his large hand clumsily wiping my face. “Don’t cry, little moon. It doesn’t hurt.”
I grabbed his wrist and held it tight against my chest. “Promise me,” I demanded, my voice breaking. “Promise me you will go to Switzerland and do the surgery.”
Dallas stiffened. His gaze drifted to the massive mirror, staring at his scarred, broken reflection. The terrifying fifty percent chance—the fear of losing Ragnar and becoming permanently wolfless—warred openly in his eyes. But as he looked down at me, kneeling and weeping for him, his impenetrable walls finally crumbled.
“I will do it,” he rasped, his voice thick with emotion. “But you don’t leave my side. Not for a second.”
“Never,” I vowed.
I reached into the pocket of my discarded, muddy coat and pulled out a small waterproof data drive. I pressed it into his palm.
“What is this?” he asked, bewildered.
“Everything,” I whispered. “Dr. Alistair Vance’s complete research on the nerve regeneration procedure. The application is already filled out. It just needs your blood signature.”
Dallas stared at the drive, his storm-gray eyes widening as the truth settled over him.
“I’ve been preparing this since the day I learned about the silver,” I confessed, resting my head against his knee. “Even when you pushed me away, even when you locked yourself in the dark, I never stopped fighting for you.”
A profound, earth-shattering awe softened his hardened features. Through our bond, Ragnar let out a deep, reverent purr that vibrated through my very soul. Mine. Protector. Mate.
Dallas pulled me up from the floor and against his chest, burying his face in my damp hair. We were finally, perfectly aligned. Tomorrow, we would leave for Switzerland to face the blade—but tonight, the broken King had surrendered at last to his Luna.
Adella POV
The morning of our departure to Switzerland arrived with a fragile, hopeful clarity. Before heading to the airfield, I needed to tie up a few loose ends. I stood in the S&D Design Restoration Workshop, the familiar scent of old parchment and magical dust swirling in the sunlit air as I packed my tools into my leather satchel.
“Luna Adella?”
I turned to find Lila, our young Omega intern, shifting nervously by my desk. She held out a small, beautifully restored antique moonstone brooch shaped like a moonflower.
“For you,” Lila murmured, her cheeks flushing as her timid Inner Wolf practically wagged its tail. “For luck on your trip.”
“Lila, it’s beautiful. Thank you,” I said, genuinely touched by the gesture.
She smiled shyly, then glanced toward the massive, dust-streaked window at the front of the shop. “Do you know the shadow Alpha in the black SUV across the street?”
.
.
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